


could love you more than life (if i wasn't so afraid)

by hanzios



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Alternate Universe - World War II, Light Angst, M/M, im not a monster, rafael is an intelligence officer and sonny is a captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: if it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it would have been worth it.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	could love you more than life (if i wasn't so afraid)

**Author's Note:**

> there may or may not be any inaccuracies in war logistics, but i tried. i loveeee ww2 history & band of brothers so i was like,, hey, what if barisi? 
> 
> then this happened. anyway, enjoy!
> 
> p.s. title is from favorite faded fantasy by damien rice

A loud bang could be heard from the distance. Between the snow-covered land with pine trees peppered in white and a thick fog settling in the air, you could not see much of what lie ahead. All you can do is listen. For an intelligence officer, the impairment of one sense is troubling. 

  
When he’d heard the sound, he looked up, but didn’t much dwell on it. This was his normal. 

  
In the makeshift Officers’ HQ made of loose stone and wood and tarp, Rafael sat beside the orange fire, ruffling through his maps of Bastogne. His teeth shattered at the cold, despite being wrapped in three articles of clothing and a tattered blanket. His helmet lay crooked on his head; a desperate attempt at warmth. 

  
The Germans have stopped dropping artillery for two days now. The other officers from the battalions on both their flanks have reported the same inactivity. He didn’t show it, but he was getting worried. If nothing came for two more days, he’d have to assume that the battalion that once was there has retreated. And he’d have to move the men forward.

  
Either into a death trap or a step closer to winning the war.

  
Rafael grabbed his tin mug from one of the tree stumps and took a gulp of some sorry excuse of coffee. It was more like tasteless brown sludge, if he was being honest. Still, the heat was a welcome relief on his throat. He hated the cold. 

  
_God, how I miss my expensive coffee-maker._

  
“Captain Barba?” a sound came from behind him.

  
He turned to find Sgt. Carisi on the ‘doorway.’ Sonny, he’d insisted on everyone calling him. The man held his helmet on his hip, messy greyish hair peppered with snow. His cheeks and nose were tainted pink, eyes bright against the white wasteland. A wave of fondness overwhelmed the captain.

  
“Carisi,” he nodded curtly. 

  
Sonny wiped at his hair as he stepped inside. “Doc Huang ran out of morphine. He went to the city earlier, but the nurses couldn’t give him anythin’.” He explained sadly, free hand waving around animatedly. “We’re almost out of bandages, too. He’s empty out there, Cap’n.” 

  
“Tell him to grab some from 2nd Battalion.” Barba motioned his head to his maps. He could sense Sonny behind him, leaning forward over his shoulder. He could feel the breath from the young man’s mouth on the back of his neck. Warm. 

  
Rafael snapped out of his thoughts. He pointed to a large area to the right. “They’re just a few miles out east. Tell him to get some IV, too. Oh, and bring Lt. Tutuola with him.” When he turned his head, their faces were mere inches away. His heart stopped when the other offered him a smile.

  
“That won’t be a problem, sir,” Sonny said, standing up. “I’ll go with him.” 

  
Rafael raised his brow at the young man. “You sure about that, Carisi?” 

  
Sonny’s expression never faltered under Rafael’s inquisitive eyes. “Yes, Captain.”

  
“You eyeing to be a lieutenant?” The corner of Rafael’s lips quirked, teasing.

  
“It’s just a supply run, Barba,” Sonny said, shrugging. “Nothing that’ll get me killed.” 

  
“In this forest, anything could get you killed.”

  
The cynicism from Rafael’s tongue dripped bitterly. But the suddenness of the statement wasn’t what shocked him, no; it was how natural he’d said it. How easy it was for him to admit that they might not make it alive, no matter what they did. Any second, they could die in the battlefield – through hypothermia or a stray bullet or a shower of artillery.

  
Sonny remained firm. He nodded before putting on his helmet and rushing outside. Rafael watched him disappear, a hollow feeling settling into his chest and taking shelter. 

  
After he’d seen Sonny disappear into the whiteness, Rafael returned to his pages of information and disgusting brown coffee, silently praying for the man’s safe return. 

+

Rafael sat inside his wet, damp foxhole, the tarp rolled up. He held up a rectangular mirror in front of his face, examining the details that weren’t there before the war. His hair was messy and greying, as if he’d grown ten years in the past two; heavy bags fell beneath his hollow, glassy green eyes; an abundance of black and white stubble was starting to grow in random patches on his chin and across his cheeks. He’d have to shave if they got back. 

  
There it was. The big word: _if_. 

  
Now, as he sat in muddy soil, as cold and as depressed he’s ever been, undeterred by faint sounds of gunfire, Rafael wondered why he volunteered in the first place. He was already in his late 30’s, well beyond the drafting age requirement; held a steady career in law; had a generous income. He could have been sat on his cozy sofa by now, drinking real black coffee and reading about the war in the newspaper. 

  
And he remembered: he didn’t want to _read_ about the war in the newspapers. He wanted to stop it. Or try to, anyway. His sense of justice had overpowered his logic, which was not an unusual occurrence for him.

  
So he volunteered, got accepted, and went into OCS. He did all of the physical and mental training required to be an intelligence officer. He worked the hardest he’s ever worked, because he knew there were kids on the frontline relying on him to give them good intel. And in return, he’d seen some of those kids die. He’d seen his friends’ faces drain of life in his arms. It was surreal, how one day they’d be at their billeted rooms drinking local wine and the next, one of them would have a gaping hole on their chest, pool of blood staining the other’s uniform

  
War is hell. 

  
The sound of machine guns snapped Rafael out of his thoughts. Usually, he wouldn’t have minded, but the noise was closer. Thirty feet, at most. 

  
He climbed out of his foxhole, grabbing his helmet from the snow and putting it on. Crouching, he followed the sounds, men popping their heads out of their own holes. The chaos heightened. Rafael felt a bullet fly past his head as he ducked behind a tree.

  
“Captain, what are you doing here?!” Sgt. Amaro yelled from the tree parallel Rafael’s. 

  
He peeked out of the trunk to fire at the enemy as Rafael replied, “What the hell is going on?!” 

  
“Krauts hiding on the border between us and 2nd!” Amaro replied in between firing his gun. “Doc’s been injured!”

  
Eyes widening, Rafael immediately turned to the area ahead and found Sonny and Huang crouched behind a tall, fallen bundle of trees. The snow beneath his left leg was red. Sonny stripped off his jacket and wrapped it on Huang’s wound, pressing down as the medic’s face twisted in agony. 

  
He watched as the gunfire momentarily stopped. Sonny snuck a peek from their cover. Frightened for his life, Rafael yelled for him to drop his head. He was too late. He heard the sound of a bullet escaping a barrel, and saw Sonny fly back into the snow, helmet jumping off into the ground.

  
“ _Amaro, cover me!”_

  
The man did a double-take when he heard those words, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What?!”

  
“You heard me.” Rafael looked at him through determined eyes. “I said _cover me, Sergeant._ ”

  
Without another moment of hesitation, Amaro jumped out of his hiding spot, yelling and firing into enemy ground. He ran towards Rafael’s tree as the captain ran like hell towards the fallen trees. Heart beating out of his chest, bullets flew around his body, missing just the slightest inches. Somehow, Rafael couldn’t care less. His eyes were trained on the fallen man in the snow, and his goal was to reach him before it was too late. 

  
“ _Sonny!_ ” he yelled as he reached the body. Rafael grabbed Sonny’s face in his hands, examining for any injury. He couldn’t find anything but an inch-long burn mark across his forehead. 

  
Sonny was visibly shaken. His eyes were wide as saucers as he looked up at Rafael, mouth hanging open. “A-Am I dead?” his quivering voice asked. 

  
“You’re alright,” Rafael whispered, relief washing over him. One of his hands travelled down on Sonny’s chest as the other remained on the back of his head. He let out a smile. “You’re alright.” 

  
Sonny weakly let out, “Doc…” and Rafael was back in reality again. 

  
He turned to the injured medic, the man’s skin paler and his eyes starting to flutter shut. Rafael rushed to him and tightened the jacket on his leg. He softly pat Huang’s face, urging him to stay awake. 

  
“Did you put morphine on him?” 

  
Sonny replied, “Yeah, a dose.” 

  
“Bandages?” 

  
“They didn’t give us anything.” Rafael turned to look at him. Sonny continued, “They were short on supplies, too. We all are.” 

  
The older man cursed beneath his breath. He kept trying to get Huang to stay awake until he heard the rapid gunfire stop. Rafael heard cheers and the stomping of boots rush over to them. Amaro appeared beside Huang, already trying to carry him. 

  
“Radio in a jeep,” Rafael ordered. “He needs to go to an infirmary. And tell your goddamn company commander what happened, wherever the hell he is.” 

  
Amaro nodded. A private no older than nineteen rushed to help, carrying Huang by his other side. Sometimes he didn’t even bother learning their names, in fear that they’ll die just like the others. In fear that _they were next._

  
Kids. They were all kids. 

  
“You alright, Captain?” Sonny asked from behind him.

  
“I–I didn’t know there were Germans hiding in the borders,” Rafael admit, voice low, running a hand through his face. “Now we’re one medic down.” 

  
Sonny risked taking a step near him, saying, “Barba, look, it isn’t your fault–“

  
“Isn’t it?” his eyes snapped up, stopping Sonny from his tracks. “What if you’d been killed?” 

  
There was something that floated across the younger man’s face that made Rafael’s heart clench in his chest. “So _what_ if I’d been killed?” 

  
Instead of answering, Rafael looked away. He was afraid of what he would’ve said if he opened his mouth. He stalked away quickly, not sparing a look at Sonny as he walked to the direction of the dead Germans. 

  
The two of them have tiptoed around each other for the past year or so, concealing their feelings behind witty banter and late-night conversations in one or the other’s billeted rooms. Rafael couldn’t quite remember when this thing between them started, but he knew exactly _why_.

  
Ever since he’d first laid eyes on Sonny, a deep desire burned in his chest. The feelings only developed as they spent more time training together. He was always so open, so friendly – so refreshing in a war that broke even the best of them. Sonny wore a smile on his face like an armor, and there was something about it that made Rafael feel at ease. As if they would all be okay.

  
War is hell.

  
And Sonny is Rafael’s daylight emerging from the dreary night sky.

+

Navigating their camp in the dead of night wasn’t an easy task. Beside the darkness that blanketed the forest, their foxholes were camouflaged and well-hidden. Which was kind of the point, anyway. As intelligence, Rafael knew just where every hole was located. He’d also spent an adequate amount of time with the men to know where they were. 

  
He crept through the trees stealthily. There was one foxhole for every twenty feet of the area, the distance becoming closer as it neared the edge of the woods. Some of the men were still awake, either out of their holes to brew coffee or inside to keep warm. Chatter could be heard from below the ground. 

  
Rafael stopped at a spot dangerously close to where the forest ended. As a high-ranking officer, he wasn’t allowed to saunter near gunfire, but he wasn’t really one for rules. Besides, it wasn’t like he was staying the night anyway. He just wanted to make sure a certain sergeant was okay.

  
Finding the tarp covered in snow, Rafael pulled it up and slid down the foxhole. This one was more spacious and firm than his. Sonny watched as Rafael settled opposite him, his legs bumping Sonny’s arm.   
“Barba?” asked Sonny. 

  
Rafael almost smiled. “Hey, Sonny.” He took off his helmet and placed it beside him. There really wasn’t much light inside, except for the faint moonlight peeking through the tarp. “How’s the injury?” 

  
Sonny consciously reached for the dark red line on his head. “It’s just a bruise, Rafael. I’ll live.”

  
“It almost wasn’t ‘just a bruise.’” The tenderness in his voice shocked Rafael himself. Before the war, he promised himself he wouldn’t get attached to anyone. Yet here he was, checking up on a soldier after an injury that was barely fatal. 

  
“Well, I’m not planning on dying anytime soon,” Sonny joked, a smile escaping his lips.

  
_Those damn dimples._

  
“It’d be nice if we had a choice.” 

  
Sonny tilted his head to the side. “Are you always this pessimistic?”

  
Rafael snorted. “I’m sorry if I’m bad company.” 

  
“No, you aren’t,” Sonny replied quickly, chuckling. “Bad company, I mean.” He looked down on his hands, joined together over his crossed legs. Rafael watched his face bathed in the dark blue moonlight, pale but tinted with pink on certain edges. Momentarily, his eyes wandered to his red lips, chapped and dry, yet looking especially inviting. 

  
“Besides,” Rafael snapped himself out of his thoughts. “You still got Fordham to look forward too. Right?”

  
“You remember?” Sonny asked, surprised. 

  
“It’s not like you don’t mention it every. Single. Time.”

  
Sonny laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s the plan. Win the war, go to law school,” he said, a thoughtful smile on his face. “Hey, grab a coffee with me once we’re outta here, will you? Don’t be a stranger.” He pointed a long finger at the other’s direction. 

  
Rafael grinned, the possibility of staying alive passing by on his mind. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

  
A calm silence blanketed them, the promise of being together after this hell on earth seeming like a welcome fantasy. They entertained the idea in their heads – of Rafael in a three-piece suit and Sonny in a suit and tie, the both of them clean-shaven as if they were untouched by the war, dining in a small coffee shop and talking about anything that didn’t involve guns or loneliness or death.

  
Slowly, Rafael reached his arm out, large hand cradling the side of Sonny’s face. The other man leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering as Rafael pulled on a few hairs. He allowed his thumb to caress the area beside the dark bruise, careful not to touch. In a low voice, he asked, “May I?” 

  
Sonny nodded. 

  
Rafael crossed his legs as Sonny pulled his into his chest, a comfortable position for the both of them. Their eyes drifted shut as Rafael leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on the bruise – a reminder of how fragile their lives are; a reminder of how easily Rafael could lose Sonny. His lips lingered onto the skin, breath grazing hotly. 

  
Sonny let out a noise that instantly warmed Rafael’s entire body. With his eyes still closed, he allowed his face to trail down Sonny’s – nose bumping through the younger man’s eyebrow down to his cheek, his nose, until their mouths found each other. Sonny closed the gap, kissing Rafael gently, a hand traveling to the back of his neck. Heat exploded on the parts where their skin met, not just because of the contact but because of the longing in their touches. 

  
They kissed until the war melted around them; until they’d forgotten of the painful cold of Bastogne or the German bullet that almost killed Sonny. 

  
“Stay,” whispered Sonny in between their tender kisses. He didn’t need to ask twice. Rafael smiled in his lips before moving beside him, shoulders together. Sonny took his blanket and shared it with Rafael. It didn’t much help with the cold, but Rafael didn’t mind. 

  
Here, in this dirty foxhole in the middle of a battlefield of a war that was bigger than the both of them, Rafael felt the most at peace he’s ever been. Their hands laced together beneath the blanket, safe and warm and assuring. 

  
War is hell. 

  
But Rafael would gladly fight a thousand wars if it meant being in Sonny’s arms by the end of the day. 


End file.
